


Questions and Answers

by Audrey_Lynne



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Caring Scrooge McDuck, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Gen, Huey overthinks everything, Overthinking, and we love him for it, post shadow war, the boy is a classic ISTP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:02:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23852014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Audrey_Lynne/pseuds/Audrey_Lynne
Summary: Dewey and Louie feel things.  Huey needs to think them through.  And, after the dust settles from the Shadow War, he has a lot of unresolved questions about his mom.  Little things that he's not even sure matters, but that won't leave him alone.  So he goes to Uncle Scrooge to talk about it, which goes better than expected.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 60





	Questions and Answers

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, all! I was rewatching some older episodes the other night, and this popped into my head...as much as I tried to make it fit within the longer fic I'm currently writing, it really didn't. So here it is on its own! Have some fluff. This can fit in anywhere after the Shadow War, but before Last Christmas.

* * *

As much as they denied it, Huey Duck knew as well as his brothers that if he, Dewey, and Louie were to dress and style their hair the same, they would be pretty much impossible to tell apart. They’d tried the trick a few times, when they were younger, until it got old. That was, if they could even pull it off, because their Uncle Donald been able to tell them apart since they were babies and their personalities quickly gave them away among others. The physical resemblance was where it ended with them. Though, even given that, Huey still felt like the odd duck out sometimes. Dewey and Louie were more like each other than he was like either of them. They were feelers; he was a thinker. They were impulsive; he was pragmatic. They were content when their hearts understood a situation; he couldn’t be satisfied until his head did.

So now they knew what had happened to their mother. Huey had to admit; he’d wondered before Dewey’s search had sparked the questions again. But Donald had looked so sad any time their mother was even mentioned that the boys never brought her up. Huey had _wanted_ answers, to be sure, but he told himself she must have died and moved on. Now that the subject was back on the table, Dewey and Louie seemed content to know that Della was an adventurer like them, that she’d been lost in a cosmic storm. That Scrooge had searched for her but found no trace. And that it was a very real possibility she _was_ dead. And now they knew why Donald had kept them far away from the McDuck mansion, why he’d struggled to make ends meet when his very rich uncle was just across town. Emotionally, it all made sense now…and, while they might have longed to know their mother on occasion, Dewey and Louie had naturally accepted it. But Huey still had questions.

He hadn’t brought his questions up to his brothers. They’d have told him they were _weird_ questions…and he wouldn’t have even been offended; he knew they were. But analyzing every last detail was his _thing_. There was still so much they didn’t know. Frankly, Huey didn’t know if it mattered. Try as he might, he couldn’t remember if anyone had even mentioned if Della was older or younger than Donald. And was that important? In the end, not really. But when he put the sequence of events together in his mind, had Donald been arguing with a headstrong older sister who should have known better or an impulsive younger sister he was trying to protect? Or…were they twins, even? Twins, who could be so much alike and _yet so different_ …oh, that was something Huey understood, and now he was beginning to think they might have been. Was it to give his brain something familiar to latch onto? Or had he just instinctively put the pieces together?

Since Mrs. Beakley had filled them in on how badly Uncle Scrooge had taken Della’s disappearance, Huey had been trying not to judge decisions made in emotional situations he really had no frame of reference to understand. He and his brothers had jumped to fast conclusions when they’d learned what happened to their mother and they’d been wrong. But Huey had gone over the sequence of events a hundred times in his mind and he’d started to wonder if, just _maybe_ , Donald had overreacted. He loved his uncle dearly and would forever be grateful for the sacrifices Donald had made for them. But would Donald have been better off accepting Scrooge’s help? How different might their lives had been? Huey wasn’t angry about Donald’s decisions – certainly, he’d seen how quickly he and his brothers had jumped on that same train – but over-analysis was just what he _did_ when he didn’t know what to feel. And even one additional piece to the puzzle could change the picture. 

Huey knew his mother and uncle had grown up in McDuck Manor. They hadn’t been raised there from birth, but they’d been fairly young when they arrived. How old, exactly, he would have liked to know, because he thrived on details, but young enough that Scrooge had more or less raised them. That put them in a similar position to Huey and his brothers with their Uncle Donald. Losing a sibling was painful no matter the birth order, but there was something special about being a twin (or triplet). Huey tried to imagine how he’d have reacted if one of his brothers had been lost, possibly forever, and he’d been convinced – whether he was right or wrong – that it had been Donald’s fault. Would he have walked away, taking whatever he felt he had left and refusing to look back? Given how close they’d come to doing the same just recently…it was a strong possibility.

Things had been getting better and Huey didn’t want to reopen fresh wounds, but he’d only keep running scenarios in his mind if he didn’t get answers. Donald was busy working on the houseboat (again) and Scrooge seemed like he might be more emotionally prepared to handle the conversation, so Huey approached him in his office. There was bagpipe music on the record player, which was a good sign; Scrooge was likely to be in a good mood and relaxing. Huey knocked on the door and when Scrooge called for him to come in, he poked his head through the door. “Uncle Scrooge?”

Scrooge smiled, also a good sign. “Oh, Huey. What brings you by?”

“I, um…had some questions for you.” Huey shifted from foot to foot, feeling a little awkward and anxious. He didn’t fear the answers, but…it felt strange to have to ask. He wished he could be as content not to have every last detail as his brothers were, but it just wasn’t in his nature. 

“Oh, certainly, lad.” Scrooge pushed his chair back from the desk and stopped the record player, nodding for Huey to join him. “What were you wondering about? Another entry for the good old JWG?”

Huey chuckled, still shuffling a little, but it was nice to know he had a “brand,” as Dewey would have put it. “Um, no…it’s more personal, actually.” He pushed forward before he could chicken out and convince himself Scrooge would refuse to discuss the matter. “About my mom. And Uncle Donald.”

Scrooge looked surprised, but he softened almost instantly. “Oh. Well, then.” He held out an arm, scooting slightly to allow room for Huey to join him in the oversized chair. “I cannae promise I’ll have all your answers, but I can try.”

“That’s all I ask.” Huey tried to remember if Scrooge had ever been this physically inviting before. Sure, there had been hugs, and tight quarters, but as big as the chair was, it wasn’t really meant for two. This was a downright affectionate gesture. He did scramble up into the chair, though, settling beside his great-uncle. “I…” Where to start? “How old were they when they came to live with you?” That might settle the question of their ages, which still felt like something he should have known already. 

Scrooge smiled, his expression a bit distant for a moment. “Ah…they were just wee things. Four years old, and a young four at that. I didnae know the first thing about raising bairns. I had just barely figured out how to be an uncle. Fortunately, I had a lot of help from Duckworth…and Beakley, though she was busy with her own little girl as well.”

“Webby’s mom?” Huey guessed. Bonus details never hurt. And he’d been right; Donald and Della apparently _were_ twins. Multiples clearly ran in the family.

Scrooge nodded. “Aye, Eliza. Webbigail does take after her mother quite a bit.”

Sadly, Huey already knew Webby’s parents had died when she was small, hence her coming to live at the mansion. Tragedy certainly seemed to follow their family – biological and chosen. “Is that why Uncle Donald calls Mrs. B ‘22’ sometimes?”

Scrooge chuckled. “Aye, that’s what he knew her as at first, before she retired from the agency and came on staff here.” He eyed Huey for a moment, his eyes looking more gentle than usual. “Somehow I suspect that’s not all you came here to ask.”

“No, not really,” Huey admitted. “It’s…silly little things, though.”

That earned him a snort of amusement. “Well, some accuse me of being a silly old man, so I suppose that’s a fine match.”

Huey smiled, relaxing a bit. He knew how rare these tender moments could be and, even if he hadn’t had more questions, he might have found some so he could savor it. “I hadn’t realized they were quite that young.”

Scrooge nodded. “Their mother – your grandmother – was my youngest sister, Hortense. She was just a wee thing herself when I left Scotland. I hardly got to know her until she was grown and came to America. My, she was a spitfire. You think your uncle’s temper is something…I’ve always said it gets better each generation. My grandfather’s fits were legendary.”

Huey couldn’t help but laugh. He knew he had a more than a bit of the famed McDuck temper, but maybe there was something to Scrooge’s theory. “Who knows? My kids might stand a chance, huh?”

“Perhaps so.” Scrooge ruffled Huey’s hair lightly. “Now, what else did you want to know?”

“Everything,” Huey sighed. His beak twisted a bit as he frowned, wringing his hands together. “I feel better now that we know what happened to Mom. I do.” A tiny, dark part of him had occasionally wondered if she’d simply abandoned them and now, at least, he knew she hadn’t done so intentionally. “But…I feel like, maybe if I can finally get all the details about her, or at least what happened when she left, then I can make sense of it all.” It sounded even stranger when he said it out loud and he waited for Scrooge to tell him he was thinking too much.

Instead, Scrooge reached out, putting his hand to Huey’s cheek for a moment. “Lad…let me tell you something. I can promise you that I’ve gone over _every_ detail, more times than I can count, and I still can’t make sense of it all. Your mother was passionate, impulsive, and fearless…but she also loved you boys more than anything. If it hadn’t been for that cosmic storm, if I’d waited to have that rocket built, if she had waited just a few more days to meet you, if…so many things.” He didn’t say it, but though they didn’t blame him anymore, Huey could tell he still blamed himself for Della being gone. “I cannae help you understand that, I’m afraid…but I’d be more than happy to tell you about _her_.”

Huey’s eyes filled with tears, and he blinked them back while pretending not to notice Scrooge doing the same. “I’d…like that.” He hugged Scrooge tightly. “Thanks.” Maybe he didn’t need so many questions after all. He just needed the right ones.

“Of course.” Scrooge glanced across his desk, smiling at the door. He picked Huey up as he stood, setting him on the couch, then moved to open the door, grinning as Louie, Webby, and Dewey tumbled in. “Come on in here, you lot. There’s room enough for everyone.” He moved to sit down on the couch as well, and Huey reclaimed his position at Scrooge’s side while his brothers and Webby piled on. Huey smiled, eager for the stories to come. If this was where getting out of his head and reaching out to someone else got him, perhaps he was going to have to try it more often.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Is there a couch in Scrooge's office? There is now.


End file.
